Isabeau looked hopefully at Leonardo. Surely she could land a kick or two on him. The man looked as if he was terrified—going to his doom. That should tell Conner she was scaring the men.

Her body felt wonderful, very alive, every nerve ending sensitive and responsive. Every movement stretched her top taut over her peaking nipples, brushing them with the most delicious strokes, sending streaks of arousal dancing through her belly. When she moved with the sensuous flow of muscle, she was acutely aware of the mechanics of her body as she’d never been—of her own femininity and how perfectly wonderful jeans were, rubbing in all the right places when she picked up her leg to throw a kick.

Leonardo broke out in a sweat and abruptly dropped his hands, backing away from her as she glided closer. Conner stepped between them and caught her by the shoulders. “What exactly is that?”

“What?” She smiled at him dreamily. If she moved just a little closer to him, she could probably rub along his chest. She stepped into him.

“That noise. You’re purring,” he accused.

“Really? Am I?” She slid her body right up against his and rubbed her breasts along his chest, needing to leave her scent on him, enjoying the streaks of fire sizzling through her veins as her sensitive nipples tightened even more. “Did you know that you have the most amazing mouth?”

Rio made a noise somewhere between frustration and amusement. “This isn’t working, Conner. I think we’re going to work with Jeremiah’s shape-shifting for a while.” He pointed to a clearing a small distance away. “Over there.”

Conner turned his head to see the young leopard staring at Isabeau with a rapt look on his face, mouth open, nearly salivating. A soft hand inserted itself between Conner’s body and hers and rubbed the front of his jeans, right over his thick, aching groin, jerking his attention back to Isabeau. The purring had increased and her eyes had gone a little glazed. Swearing, he captured her wrists and yanked her hands to his chest, pinning them there. “Good idea,” he all but growled back. The kid needed distraction.

Isabeau’s cat needed to emerge soon or this wave had to be over before all the men went into some kind of snarling sexual frenzy. He could smell the testosterone rising. Things were going to hell fast. He needed to take control.

“You’re going to get someone killed,” he hissed at the cat.